Christmas in Eternity Springs (26 page)

“I think so, too. They turned out even nicer than I envisioned.”

“To be honest, I expected something cutesy and cheesy. More along the lines of the dog costumes. These ornaments are traditional and classic—they'll fit into a lot of different décors. I'm impressed.”

“Thank you. Sage deserves most of the credit. She did a fabulous job with the drawings. They're individual enough that those of us who know the dogs will recognize them, but she kept enough of the different breeds' particular qualities to appeal to owners of a variety of dogs.”

“I don't know, Claire. I can't imagine there being another Mortimer in the world.”

She laughed. “He is unique. Sage drew a more generic Boston terrier for me. I've had them produced, but I'm not featuring them tonight. Could I get you to put the topper on the tree for me? Do you want the ladder?”

Jax shook his head and gestured toward the stepstool that leaned against a wall. “That'll be fine.”

She handed him a theme-appropriate angel for the top of the tree. Jax took in the floppy-eared, plush dog with a goofy grin, wings made of feathers, and a gold halo that was tilted at an angle that suggested the dog wasn't always angelic.

With the tree trimming finished, Jax took a few minutes to study the other merchandise displayed in the room. In addition to the costumes, she had holiday sweaters, Christmas-themed treat jars, food bowls, and chew toys. Collars, leads, stockings, photo frames, wrapping paper, and more. He picked up a bag of bacon-flavored treats shaped like little elves and asked, “What more could a dog want?”

“Tinsel loves them,” Claire said. “Captain does, too.”

“I'm sure.” An old memory flashed through his mind and, without thinking about it, he shared it with her. “Lara had a dog when we got married. A little terrier. She kept treats for her in a cookie jar in the kitchen. We had a party one weekend, and some of my navy buddies came to it. One guy drank too much and bunked on our sofa. Raided the cookie jar in the middle of the night. The next morning, he asked Lara for the recipe for cookies. Said he'd never had bacon-flavored cookies before, but he loved them.”

Claire smiled and waited a couple of beats before observing, “That's the first time I've heard you mention your ex-wife with a smile on your face.“

Jax tossed the dog treats back into their basket. “I think it's Eternity Springs. My boy wasn't the only Lancaster who needed healing. So, what else can I do to help you?”

He thought of that moment later that evening as he showered before returning to town for the reception. It was nice to be able to think of Lara without all the rage and pain. Someday, Nicholas would want to talk about his mother. Jax needed to be able to remember and share memories of the good times in his marriage.

Knock, knock, knock.
“Hurry up, Dad. We don't want to be late!”

“Hold your horses,” Jax called out as he towel-dried his hair. His phone lay beside his razor on the countertop beside the bathroom sink and he checked the time. “The doors don't open for forty minutes yet.”

“But we have to find a place to park. That might be hard. Everyone is going to Forever Christmas tonight. Hurry up, Dad.”

Jax switched on his electric razor and grinned at his reflection in the mirror. Nicholas wouldn't be this excited if he was still afraid.
Everything is going to be okay.

With a towel wrapped around his hips, he exited the master bath and walked into his bedroom. Nicholas sat in the middle of his bed with Captain in his lap. “On my bed? Really?”

“Sorry.” Nicholas pushed the dog off the bed. “Guess what, Dad? Miss Claire left a present in my closet. It wasn't in a box or a gift bag. It was just hanging there. See?”

He scrambled to his feet, standing in the middle of the mattress. “It's a new shirt. Look what's on the pocket. It's a paw print and it says ‘The Twelve Dogs of Christmas.' She pinned a note to it and said I didn't have to wear it, but I wanted to. It's soft. And, it's red and green and I'm wearing it. I'm wearing it! And guess what? I looked in your closet and she left one for you, too. Will you wear it? It's not the same color so we won't match and be lame.”

“We wouldn't want to be lame.”

“Hurry up, Dad. Cari Callahan says that Mr. Chase's mom is sending meatballs, and they're really good. And Coach Lucca's mom is sending cake. We don't want them to all be gone before we get there.”

Jax pulled on jeans and then the brown flannel shirt with the dog logo embroidered in tan thread on the pocket. “All right. All right. Take Captain out to pee and then we'll go.”

“Hurray!” Nicholas scrambled off the bed calling, “Come on, Captain. Gotta go do your business.”

He chattered all the way to town, and his excitement was infectious. Jax's mood was upbeat as he parked his truck on Third Street, a block and a half away. Nicholas ran ahead of him, and Jax had to lengthen his stride to keep up. Maybe it was the power of positive thinking at work, but he honestly believed that Nicholas had his issue beat as they made their way toward Forever Christmas.

So it was especially crushing when the boy came to an abrupt halt ten feet from Claire's front door.

Jax detected the aroma of mulled cider in the air at the same moment he saw color drain from Nicholas's complexion. The boy weaved on his feet and brought his hands up to cover his ears. He let out a scream.

The shrill sound drowned out the sweet voices of Meg and Cari Callahan, approaching the shop from the opposite direction and singing the chorus of “Angels We Have Heard on High.”

 

Chapter Sixteen

Positive thoughts are difficult to come by some days.

—CLAIRE

When Jax heard his son scream, his heart dropped to his feet. He sprinted toward Nicholas and scooped him up into his arms even before the boy drew another breath.

“It's okay, buddy. It's okay. I'm here. Daddy's here.”

Heedless of the attention they'd received from others on the street, Jax turned around and started walking, not sure where he was going to take the boy, just knowing they needed to get away from Forever Christmas.

Nicholas buried his head against Jax's chest and sobbed. “I'm so scared, Daddy. I don't want to be scared.”

Jax's heart broke right along with his son's. “I'm here, Nicholas. I've got you. It's okay.”

They were one block away from the health center. He should go there. Nicholas might need a doctor. Hell, Jax needed a doctor. He needed somebody who knew what the hell they were doing. He damned sure didn't know what to do. He sucked at this. At parenting. What had he been thinking? Whatever made him think that reading a few books and wearing a shirt meant the boy had overcome a traumatic experience almost beyond imagining?

The idea that a place can heal a damaged psyche? What a crock.

In his arms, Nicholas cried his heart out. “Daddy. Daddy. I hate that music. I hate it. It scared me so bad…”

“I'm here, buddy. I know. I'm sorry.”

“She was singing, Daddy. Mommy was singing that song and playing the music loud.”

Jax's steps slowed. Was he talking about the accident? Nicholas never talked about the accident.
Oh, hell. What do I do?

“She was singing and she was crying and then she started laughing. I was so scared.”

Six years old. He'd been six years old. Could he remember details like this about what had happened? Were these real memories or his nightmares? And did that even matter? This was what was in his mind.

And he's talking about it. He's talking about his mother. He never talks. Never.

Talking was good, wasn't it? Keeping everything inside was poison. He needed to talk. Hadn't the psychologists told Jax that?

Yes. Back before you stopped taking him to psychologists.

I suck at this.

Jax needed to keep him talking. He needed to vomit out the poison like when you drank too much. Vomiting kept you from getting alcohol poisoning. Jax wished he had alcohol right now.

Ahead of them half a block, Jax spied a couple of boys on Nicholas's soccer team. Crap. Not what they needed now. Not at all.

Thinking fast, Jax crossed the street to where the gate to the prayer garden beside St. Luke's Episcopal church stood open and welcoming. He entered and carried his son toward a wrought-iron bench that sat across from a concrete birdbath and a metal plaque inscribed with a Bible verse that read: “
Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light for my path.
Psalms 119:105”

Nicholas continued to cry, though his sobs had quieted somewhat. Gently, Jax rocked his son back and forth, murmuring soothing sounds, whispering calming words.

Nicholas shuddered. “I put my fingers in my ears because I didn't want to hear her sing anymore. Then the car was going sideways and there was a big boom and we crashed. I bumped my head and it hurt. I cried for Mommy but she didn't answer. She didn't talk to me at all. I said, ‘Mommy, Mommy, Mommy,' and she wouldn't answer.”

“I'm so sorry.” Jax was horrified. Poor Nicholas. Poor Lara. Knowing that she'd broken her neck in the accident had been bad enough, but hearing this account of the event from his son … dear Lord. His heart squeezed in pain. No child should see something like this. Ever.

“It's awful. She died. She wrecked the car and she died and I was all alone. I even yelled ‘Help!' but nobody came. Nobody.”

“It was a terrible thing, Nicholas. It was a horrible, terrible thing that happened to you. But you aren't alone anymore.”

“Why am I still scared? I don't want to be scared anymore. I'm a baby. The kids at my old school said that, and now everyone here will say it, too, because I couldn't go into Miss Claire's shop.”

“No. You're the bravest boy I've ever met.”

“No I'm not, Daddy. I'm not brave at all. I'm not better. I thought I was better.”

“You
are
better, Nicholas. It's true. I'm not a doctor, and I could be wrong about this, but I think you have some really scary memories hiding in your brain. Something happened a few minutes ago, something touched those memories and they came out of hiding.”

The song the Callahan girls had been singing, he'd bet.

“I smelled it,” Nicholas said.

He smelled it? “What did you smell? Christmas trees?”

“No. Not that.” Nicholas shrugged. “I don't know what it is.”

What had the boy smelled a moment ago? The cider? Could Lara have had a thermos of cider with her? Jax tried to recall what had been found in the car with Nicholas, but beyond the wrapped Christmas gifts, he came up empty.

He brushed Nicholas's bangs off his forehead. “Smells are a powerful memory trigger, son.”

“How do I make it stop?”

“That's something we can ask Dr. McDermott when you see him in a few weeks. In the meantime, I'm not a doctor, but I'll tell you what my gut tells me. I think maybe that something like what happened today needs to happen. I think those memories need to come out.”

Nicholas stirred and sat up. He gave Jax an incredulous look.

Jax attempted to explain. “Remember when we were moving that lumber at Papa Bear last week, and you got a splinter in your hand?”

“Yeah.”

“You tried to ignore it. Tried to pretend it wasn't there. But it didn't go away, did it? Every time you bumped it, it hurt.”

“It hurt when you dug in my finger with a needle.”

“Yep. But I opened a path to the splinter and got hold of it with the tweezers and pulled it out. It hurt coming out, but once it was out, the hurting stopped.”

“You're saying my memories of what happened with Mommy are splinters?”

“Big sharp thorny ones. But I'm thinking that maybe talking about them works like a needle and tweezers.”

“Huh.” Nicholas considered the idea, then his eyes filled with fresh tears. “I don't think you're right. If the splinter was gone, I could go look at the Christmas Doghouse, but I don't want to. I mean … I
want
to … but I can't.”

“Here's the thing about splinters, big guy. Sometimes you can't get hold of them and pull 'em out whole. Sometimes you've got to make a couple runs at getting them. Sometimes they break and little pieces get left behind. But if you've opened a path to them, lots of times they'll work themselves up toward the surface so that you can get 'em.”

“I don't remember Mommy very good,” Nicholas said in a small, hesitant voice. “Except for the bad time. I remember that. She made me sad and scared. Mimi says Mommy loved me a whole lot.”

“She did.”

“I want to remember good things about Mommy.”

“You will, buddy. I'll help you.”

“You will?” Nicholas swiped the back of his hand across eyes now filled with hope, then wiped his nose on his sleeve.

“Absolutely, I will.” Jax shifted his son out of his lap and onto the bench beside him. He fished his handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to his son. “Blow.”

Nicholas did, then handed it back. Jax continued, “It'll do me good to remember the good times with your mother. Let's start right now, shall we?”

“Okay.”

Jax pursed his lips and made a show of thinking hard. “Hmm … let me see.”

He snapped his fingers. “Here you go. I remember that your mommy liked the color purple a lot. And she loved for the three of us to play the game Twister together. Remember that?”

“Maybe…”

“She also loved to make peanut butter cookies and put a big Hershey's Kiss in the middle of them.”

Nicholas's eyes rounded. “I remember that! I used to help her take the foil off the Kisses.”

“That you did.” Hoping that this was a good direction to take, Jax ventured, “What else did Mommy like?”